Hendrik responded with surprising quickness to the suggestion, scooting back against the wall and stretching out his long legs. “I’m not very good at it. I mean, I had to learn, but mostly just to write my name and sound out things the priests made us memorize.”
Dagan suggested, “I could read for you?” Then flushed the moment it was out of his mouth. Was it rude of him? Presumptuous? Why did it feel strange? “Or I could just shut up and—”
“No.” Hendrik sat up a little, leaning toward him. Then he shook his head and sat back again. “I mean, if you want to. I like hearing a voice that isn’t mine.”
Dagan hid another pang of pity by turning to the next bed, instead of his own, and making himself comfortable lotus-style. “I could tell you a story. One about our nobles, from long ago? Or the old gods?”
Hendrik folded his hands over his belly and relaxed his shoulders. “No gods. But nobles sound interesting.”
And suddenly, this very attractive, very large man was almost child-like, waiting patiently for a story and wanting the comfort of someone’s voice as he fell asleep. Dagan couldn’t help beaming a little at him, hoping it’d warm him up inside a little. He began, “Very well. Once upon a time, there was a princess of the Oak Grove. Though her mother was a good queen, who made sure everyone in her part of the forest was well-fed, there was unrest among the other nobles, who thought they should have more than their share. One day…”
*
Dagan slipped out of the room quietly, then waited a few moments, listening at the door to make sure Hendrik wouldn’t stir. When the room remained silent, he stole down the stairs. Will was near the bottom, taking off his apron, and greeted him with a huge smile. “I was about to come up.”
“Let’s not wake him.” Dagan brushed his fingers up Will’s arm and slid them around to his opposite shoulder. He leaned in close, saying into Will’s ear, “Is there somewhere we can…?”
Will nodded eagerly, then grabbed a bottle off the bar. Grinning, Dagan followed him out to the barn, which was quiet but for the soft snoring of animals and smelled of sweet hay. “You’re just so resourceful,” Dagan told him. “I love that in a man.”
“Not like you, though.” Will took a long drink from the bottle before handing it to him. He unbelted his tunic with the most charming kind of impatience. “You’re a scout.”
Dagan took a long drink of the sweet, light apricot wine, then said, “Oh, you could be one too, if you wanted. Anyone can if they work hard enough.”
“I don’t know.” Will dropped his belt and was already pulling at his tunic. “It’d be hard to leave the conservancy. My family and friends.”
After another drink, Dagan passed the bottle back and pulled off his clean shirt, which still smelled deliciously of lavender. He laid it carefully on a bale of hay. “But you might meet exciting and handsome boys like me.”
Will grinned and took a moment to admire Dagan’s torso as he sipped at the bottle again. “Maybe so. But you all come through regularly enough.”
“Oh, I see.” Dagan laughed as he undid his laces. “Am I just one on a long list of scout triumphs for you, darling?”
Will puffed up slightly. “Not yet.”
“But I’m not your first,” Dagan guessed as he finished unlacing.
“Well. My first scout,” Will admitted, setting aside the bottle to fight his way out of the tunic. “Not my first exciting and handsome traveler, though.”
Of course, there was no wrong answer to the question, but that one had been particularly entertaining, all the same. “Then I’d better show you what you’ve been missing.”
The rest of the clothes came off, Will’s creamy pink skin glinting in the candlelight, his prick pretty and as eager as the rest of him. Dagan backed him against the wall and pinned him there, aligning their hips, legs tangled and pricks between their bellies. They kissed, apricots and alcohol on their tongues at first, then just the taste of a hungry mouth begging for more. Will arched, scraping his backside against the wall to rub off against Dagan.
Dagan thought of Hendrik, and that blanket sliding off his freshly-scrubbed skin little by little, halted only by that magnificent prick, where it hung suspended for a long moment. Then it dropped to the floor, leaving him bare, his muscled ass like carved stone and his cock, soft, pale, and smooth, jutting out then hanging heavy.
A little moan in his ear, higher and sweeter than Hendrik’s rough, almost disused voice, brought Dagan back to the lithe and very eager boy in his arms. He rearranged them, so they could rub off on each other as they kissed and nibbled at lips and necks and ears, working themselves into a quick frenzy of enjoyment.
Would it be different, if it was Hendrik? Would they be evenly matched, for know-how and boldness, or would one of them lead the other, like Dagan sensed he could do with Will now? What would he have done, if things were different, and he’d seen Hendrik like that in a different time and place, clean and fresh and beautiful in a room just for them?
Dagan reached between them and grabbed his own prick. Will’s was dark pink now, almost red, head glistening and sensitive. Dagan rubbed his own against it, felt it growing slick as Will dripped. He pressed his forehead to Will’s and found a rhythm with his hand, soon enough feeling Will’s knuckles against his belly as he jerked himself, too. Will gave another little moan, and Dagan whispered, “Wait, sweetheart. Just wait.”
Will stopped stroking, tilting his head downward to watch as Dagan jerked himself off faster. Will held his own cock, though, so Dagan could rub against it and then, as he felt his world collapsing around him, cover both his cock and hand—and his belly, a little—in shot after shot of hot cum.
“Oh, damnation, that’s hot.” Will stroked himself slowly, slick with Dagan’s cum and panting.
“Hands off,” Dagan panted, though he could hardly speak, he’d come so hard and fast.
Again, Will responded with admirable alacrity. Dagan dropped to his knees in the hay and licked up the crook of Will’s hip, where his skin was soft and pale and tasted of Dagan. This was precisely what he’d do, if he had his way with the beautiful boy upstairs. Come all over that gorgeous dick and then suck it clean, until Hendrik fell to pieces in his hands and his mouth.
Will’s dick was far easier to take than he suspected Hendrik’s would be, however, which wasn’t a point of complaint just then. He wasted no time, fondling Will’s balls as he worked his prick with every bit of attention and affection he was capable of.
Sure, he was more-than-halfway thinking of someone else. But it wasn’t the first time and certainly not the last that his fantasies hadn’t quite aligned with reality. Not to mention, it was a far healthier way to deal with never-ending and unrelentingly horny tendencies than the alternative.
Will certainly had no complaints, either.
*
Morning sun drenched the outskirts of the Apricot Grove Conservancy in yellow-white light that sparkled through the canopy. “They’ve been through recently.” Dagan touched the rut marks on the rough bark of a large oak. “Look.”
“The deer fought the tree?” Hendrik frowned behind his fringe of shining hair. He really needed to get that taken care of; he looked like a schoolboy now he was clean shaven.
“No, they rub their antlers against it to mark their territory. Around the longest night, they’ll do it to shed them, so new ones can sprout the next year,” Dagan explained. “They’re velvety now, probably. It’s early for hunting, but the deer here are always overpopulated.”
“Is that on your map?”
Dagan glanced at Hendrik, impressed. He’d had his map out on the large table, this morning, to mark what he’d seen and heard since he’d collected Hendrik from the beach. “Yes, actually. I’ll take it back to the Council, and they’ll distribute us all new maps after the longest night.”
“Midwinter?”
Dagan nodded. “Follow.” He loosed his bow and kept an arrow in hand. Several nearby trees were marked; if they were quiet and patient, they might get lucky yet.
